


In a stolen prayer

by MegMcwrites



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegMcwrites/pseuds/MegMcwrites
Summary: After the world didn't end, and our boys move to the south downs, Aziraphale accidentally eaves drops on Crowley praying.





	In a stolen prayer

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to my wonderful beta @proficientatfreakness, seriously without your wonderful comments this never would have been so long.   
> This is my first GO fic and my first fic in over five years, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

In the cottage in South Downs, Aziraphale sat in his armchair completely immersed in the new book (well new to him) that Crowley had surprised him with just that afternoon.  
After coming in from a mysterious morning trip to the city, Crowley had gently handed him the book with a wink and an invitation to the lunch he had picked up while there because, “You have mentioned these scones from the bakery next to your old shop at least three times this last week, Angel”.

After their tea Crowley had left Aziraphale to move from devouring the scones to the new text, saying he was going to go tend to the garden, as some of the plants didn’t seem to be quite motivated enough.

Aziraphale rubbed his strained eyes and looked around realizing it was starting to get quite dark. He carefully marked his page and set the book aside, stretching as he stood from the armchair and reaching to turn on the light. It was rather late, now that he was paying attention. He wandered into the kitchen, thinking maybe a nice cup of cocoa would be the perfect addition to this cozy evening. He peered out the window into the garden to see if Crowley was still out intimidating the plants as he made his cocoa.

Crowley was pointing his plant mister at the sky threateningly. Aziraphale made his way towards the back door to beckon the demon, smiling softly and shaking his head. Just what was he doing? He had just started to push the door open when Crowley dropped the mister to his side and shouted “God, are you listening?!” one hand still stretched to the ever darkening sky. Aziraphale froze, one foot out, door halfway open, and cocoa warm in his hand. Crowley continued to speak, looking at the brightening stars, pulling his outstretched hand back to run through his hair. He was speaking softly enough that Aziraphale couldn’t hear everything he was saying, he could barely make out every third or fourth word but he was sure, Crowley was praying.

Aziraphale is no stranger to prayer, of course. He has been to countless church services, watched congregations pray as one. He has heard humans pray in thanks, in desperation, begging for grace or mercy. Aziraphale has never attempted it himself, after all, he was an angel. If he needed to get a message sent up, there were channels you went through for that sort of thing (though he had started to wonder if they ever really reached God). He supposed there wasn’t a way for a demon to do this, can’t just call up the Metatron on a whim. And although this is something he knew, It’s not something Aziraphale has ever given a lot of thought to before, and the realization that those who Fall essentially lose whatever connection one could have to Her was... overwhelming.

He watched as Crowley paced the garden randomly spraying plants as he went, keeping up his one sided conversation. This was no memorized prayer from the good book, he wasn’t pleading for divine grace. He was, well, he was asking questions.

Aziraphale’s heart squeezed watching his demon, whose features were quickly being lost in the dimming light. How had this being, who had been an angel, Fall? Aziraphale knew he hadn’t bought in with what Lucifer had been preaching before the Fall, he had been doing just as he was now, asking questions.  
Questions he knew others had asked as well, even if not so blatantly as Crowley. Including Michael, and if he was being truly honest Aziraphale had wondered himself, though he hadn't spoken aloud about them. Was this all part of the ineffable plan? Did God need Crowley to be the demon on earth? The one demon who was more interested in causing general mischief and leaving the humans to figure out the awful bits on their own? The one demon who actually liked humans and the world they had been building for six thousand years? Had he been cast out because he was the only one who questioned enough to question the Plan itself?

Aziraphale sighed, eyes blurry with unshed tears as he watched his demon spray the last plant in the row and run his hands through his hair again. How often did Crowley talk to God? When did he start? He had undoubtedly heard just as many humans pray as Aziraphale, had it been just a way to release tension? Like yelling at his plants? Did anyone hear Crowley’s prayers? Angels heard human prayers, of course, there were whole departments for the listening, recording, and sometimes answering of human prayers. But did the demon’s words fall on deaf ears? With a small twinge, Aziraphale realized this wasn’t the first time he had witnessed Crowleys version of prayer. Before the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, when they met at the band stand before Aziraphale had refused to go away with him to Alpha Centuri, Crowley had cursed the great ineffable plan yelling once again at the sky. Aziraphale had just taken it as Crowley trying to tell off... who? The angels who may be watching? Aziraphale and his faith in the plan? The universe itself? But here, listening to stolen words, he realized Crowley had been talking to God all along. Did She hear him?

The wind shifted and he caught the last words Crowley uttered to the sky,  
“I may be unforgivable, but if my love for him causes him to fall, I will never forgive you. I’m not... I’m not worth his Fall”

Aziraphale’s heart stopped in his chest, tears finally falling from his eyes. He had known on some level. He was a being of love and could feel the abundance of it when the demon was near, but he had never looked too close, always imagining it was his own love he felt, not daring to hope. Hearing Crowley say the words, and as a challenge no less, made him want to rush out and confess himself to the demon on the spot.

Aziraphale held himself still, he knew that this was private, this confession was not for his ears. He quietly turned inside making his way back to his chair, setting down his untouched cocoa, opening his book and staring unseeing at the pages.

Crowley sauntered back inside and draped himself across the back of Aziraphales chair.  
“You’ve almost finished” he reached past Aziraphales ear to trace the remaining pages of the open book “enjoying it then?”

Aziraphale hummed in affirmation shivering at the almost contact, closing his eyes, letting himself properly feel the waves of love coming off of Crowley. This was real, and even if the demon would never confess it to him in words, he knew, and there was no hiding from it now.  
Crowley chuckled “must be, your cocoa’s cold, you didn’t even touch it, did you?” He cast an affectionate smirk at Aziraphale and the angels heart skipped in his chest. How often had Crowley looked at him this way? How blind had he been? Crowley coughed softy turning his face away, his cheeks pink.

“Wine, Angel?” He rose and went to the wine rack.  
“We do have a couple bottles of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape you like so much left, but... hmm... perhaps not, not quite a worthy occasion, is it? Don’t want to waste it...” Crowley muttered more to himself, not expecting the angel, who was presumably absorbed in a book, to be listening.

Aziraphale stood, straightening his bow tie, and walked over to join Crowley at the wine rack. He reached for Crowley’s hand, gently taking it in his own causing the demon to startle and look at him.  
“ ‘Ziraphale?” It came out as an almost hiss, which sent goosebumps down the angels spine. He reached up and gently removed the demons glasses, tucking them into his own breast pocket.  
Crowley was frozen, huge golden eyes staring back at him uncertain “Angel?”  
Aziraphale lifted his hand to Crowley’s face cupping his cheek,   
“You are entirely worth it, my dear” he whispered. Aziraphale stood on his tiptoes and kissed the demon, his lips feather light on the others. “And I don’t just mean the wine.”

Just as softly he pulled away, carefully watching Crowley’s face, waiting.  
Crowley let out a pained whine, not daring to move, not daring to look, not daring to breathe.  
“My Dear...” Aziraphale ran his thumb over Crowley’s tattoo moving his fingers into soft red hair. Crowley unconsciously leaned into his touch, shuddered and opened his eyes, “Aziraphale, we cant, I cant be the reason...”

“I won’t fall” Aziraphale was so certain, his faith was absolute. Crowley’s fall was part of Her ineffable plan, they were meant to be here on earth together. Two sides of the same coin, helping shepherd humanity, together.

Crowley huffed and drew back enough to pinch the bridge of his nose, “You can’t Know that, Angel! If there’s any chance..”

“If loving you was going to make me fall I would have fallen years ago, my dear.”  
Golden eyes fixed on Blue, Aziraphale smiled and it was so bright it Hurt, but Bless him if he was going to look away for a second.

“Years.. but.. how long? When?”  
Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink and he looked down at his toes, Crowley reached out and gently tilted his chin back up so their eyes met again, “Angel...”

“At least since Paris” he waved his fingers in the air almost dismissively, “the whole prison business... But I think maybe even before then.”  
Crowley’s heart fluttered, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Aziraphale stopped him with two fingers to his lips.

“But I didn’t, I didn’t really know, not until you asked me for the holy water and then all I could think of was this world without you in it at all and we fought, obviously”

“Obviously” Crowley mocked, though his voice was so very soft.

Aziraphale couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips “Yes, well... and then, then at the church when you found me and saved the books... and, well, me.” He looked straight up at Crowley, hoping the other could see the sincerity in his own eyes. He watched Crowley’s face, which was displaying such open wonderment, slowly change to the mischievous smirk he knew oh so well.

With inhuman speed, Crowley slipped his leg between the angels, knocking him just enough off balance he could turn them both and pin Aziraphale against the nearest bookcase.  
Aziraphale let out a yelp that quickly turned into a moan as the demon pressed completely against him, Crowley’s golden eyes fixed intently on his own.  
“You’re telling me,” he said in almost a growl, and oh Sa-Go-Someone(!), if that didn’t have the Angel shivering in his arms. He lowered his voice hoping, just shy of praying, that his angel would shiver again “that you’ve known, definitively, for one hundred and fifty years and Never. Once. Ssaid?”  
Aziraphale’s heart was pounding, Crowley could hear it, surely. His breath hitched as Crowley ducked his head and breathed him in, pausing, and gently pressing kisses to the angels neck, his pulse point, his jaw. “I could have been kissing you for one hundred and fifty years?” Aziraphale shuddered in his arms and Crowleys smile turned wicked when his angel started to stutter

“W-well, I-I wasn’t ever quite, ah, ah” Crowley ground his hips against Aziraphales kissing his neck. This was too much too fast and he knew it, but hearing Aziraphale, ever articulate, stumbling over his words had him feeling like he may just combust on the spot.  
Aziraphale tried again “I wasn’t ever quite sure of, of y-your own..”, the demons lips on his neck were making it impossible to form a proper response “oh, lord...”

“Angel” Crowley pulled back, his veins turning to ice, how could his angel doubt? Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked at Crowley, desperation and adoration plain in the demons golden eyes, “I showed you surely? Even if I didn’t say it, I showed you! You know how much I..”

“Yes Dear,” he cupped Crowley’s face in one hand, the other still desperately locked in the demons hair “ I do, I know.” He looked between his demon’s beautiful eyes and his lips.  
Crowley let out a low hiss and closed the space between them, kissing Aziraphale with everything he was, pouring in every ounce of love, hope, and frustration at this principality’s glacier speed. Worshiping him.

Heart hammering in his chest, Crowley pulled back enough to make sure Aziraphale wasn’t going to tell him to stop, that he wasn’t once again going too fast. The sight before him was better than any heaven he had ever known. His Angel, cheeks pink, bright blue unfocused eyes, and kiss swollen lips starting to pout at the sudden disappearance of Crowley’s own. Crowley’s long fingers were playing in the soft curls at the base of Aziraphaels neck as he gazed adoringly down at the angel committing every detail to memory. Aziraphale closed his eyes, sighing and leaning in, Crowley met him halfway reveling in the little moan his angel made. As their lips locked once more, Crowley was absolutely positive his prayers had been heard after all.


End file.
